Until We Touch

“What does that have to do with being in a relationship? Don’t you want more than friendship? Don’t you want passion and sex and romance and knowing there’s someone you can call at two in the morning and he’ll be there, no matter what?”

Larissa nodded because it was the answer Taryn expected. The truth was more complicated. Yes, she wanted passion and sex and romance. But if she needed to call someone at two in the morning, she knew all four Score owners would be at her side in a heartbeat, with Jack leading the way. Was that what Taryn was trying to say? That the reason Larissa hadn’t found the one was because she didn’t need to?

She doubted the truth was that simple.

* * *

HUNAN PALACE WAS conveniently located in Larissa’s neighborhood. The vegetables were fresh, the sauces delicious and Jack had to admit they had the best egg rolls he’d ever tasted. As he wasn’t the kind of guy who cooked and Larissa was too busy saving the world to provide a meal, their regular Tuesday-night dinner meant takeout. They met at her place. He brought the food. She provided the beer or wine. It was nice. Easy.

As he crossed the street, he nodded at the people he knew, or at least recognized. Fool’s Gold was that kind of town. You were expected to get involved. Hell, even Sam was teaching finance classes for small businesses a couple of times a month. Kenny would be sucked into something before long, Jack thought. Which meant being asked to help find a new coach wasn’t much of a surprise. Plus, it was the kind of thing he would enjoy. Even though he couldn’t still play, the love of the game had never gone away.

He reached Larissa’s apartment building. She had an upstairs unit in a place without an elevator—which was just like her. He happened to know she could afford something much nicer and larger, but that wasn’t her way. She wanted her money to go toward her causes. His money, too, he thought with a grin. But what the hell. He had enough.

He knocked once, then opened the door. Larissa wasn’t one for locks.

“It’s me,” he called and he stepped into her small one-bedroom apartment.

Larissa looked up from the book she’d been reading. “Hi. Meet Dyna.”

He glanced down and saw a cat hurrying toward him. She had long hair and almost-human blue eyes.

“You really got a cat.”

“I told you I did.”

“I know, but I thought you were kidding.”

Dyna wound her way around his legs in a tight figure eight, depositing light-colored cat hair on his suit pants with every step.

“Nice,” he murmured, making a mental note to change into jeans before visiting again, even if that meant keeping an extra pair at the office.

Larissa stood and crossed to him. “Don’t whine. Isn’t she beautiful?”

She picked up the cat, who immediately relaxed in her arms.

Dyna’s fur was a creamy white in the front of her body, darkening to a taupe-beige, then darkening even more until it was a deep brown on her tail.

“She’s great,” Jack said.

“She intimidates me a little,” Larissa admitted. “I’ve never had a cat this gorgeous before.”

“Your eyes are the same color. That’s a little weird.”

Larissa laughed and set down the cat. “Afraid we have an otherworldly connection? That together we can move objects and read minds?”

“It’s never good when a woman can read my mind,” he said honestly. “By whatever means.”

She took the bag of food from him and led the way into her small kitchen.

The eat-in table was already set with two place mats, plates and flatware. A vase filled with a few carnations sat in the center. The pink petals were turning brown on the edges, he noted. Probably because Larissa had bought them at 70 percent off at the grocery store. You wouldn’t want to waste money on something like flowers at full price. What if there was a mad squirrel in need of therapy?

She picked up a bottle of merlot. “Wine or beer?”

He considered the question. “Beer.”

She carefully put the bottle back into the rack on her counter. It was one he’d brought over, along with the inventory of a few of his favorite merlots. While he trusted Larissa to buy beer, he was not willing to drink the cheap wine she favored.

She pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, then nudged the door closed with a bump of her hip. He set down the bag of food and crossed to the drawer to pull out the opener. While he was there, he also grabbed a few serving spoons for their dinner.

He turned in the small kitchen and handed her the opener. She walked back to the table.

The windows were open and a nice breeze drifted through the kitchen. Dyna had settled on the back of the sofa to watch them from a safe and regal distance. Larissa opened both bottles, then unpacked the containers of food. She turned to him and smiled.

“You got the crispy shrimp,” she said happily. “Thank you.”

“You like it.”

“You don’t.”

“Yeah, whatever. Eat the rest for lunch.”

“Real men don’t eat shrimp?” she asked.

“I love shrimp. Just put it in a butter sauce and drop it over pasta. Is that too much to ask?”

She sat down and motioned for him to do the same. Jack started to move toward the table, or at least he planned to, but suddenly he found it difficult to move.

From this angle he could see Larissa’s bare shoulder. She’d replaced her usual work T-shirt with a tank top. One of those cottony, billowy ones with little ruffles around the arm and neckline. The soft fabric dipped low enough for him to be aware of feminine curves.

He shook his head. So Larissa had breasts. She was a woman—it wasn’t unexpected. Only he wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed them before. Or how long her legs were in her shorts. She had great legs. Tanned and toned.

No, he corrected himself. Lanky. She was lanky. His gaze drifted to her bare feet. She’d painted her toes a dark purple and added little pink dots. Who did that?

“What?” she asked. “You okay?”

“Ah, fine.”

He sat across from her and reached for one of the containers. It was the damned crispy shrimp and he quickly passed it over to her.

“How’d you get her?” he asked, motioning to the cat.

“Mayor Marsha mentioned she knew an older lady who had passed away. Her family couldn’t keep Dyna—everyone’s allergic. So I took her.” Larissa lowered her voice. “I think she’s starting to like me. When I pet her, she purrs.”

Jack wanted to point out that liking or not liking wasn’t the issue. Larissa was Dyna’s meal ticket and the cat was smart enough to know that. But the words sounded harsh, even in his head, so instead he said, “What’s not to like?” and then wondered why he felt weird saying that.

Something was wrong. Or different. Or both. And he didn’t like it. He was comfortable around Larissa. He understood her. They were friends. So what was off tonight?

“Speaking of Mayor Marsha, what did she want with you?”